<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>What is Advice to Fallen Stars? by Starffledust</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28967790">What is Advice to Fallen Stars?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starffledust/pseuds/Starffledust'>Starffledust</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Ramblings of Silent Stars [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Guardians of Childhood - William Joyce, Rise of the Guardians (2012)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>But it's okay we love her here, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Golden Age, LET SANDY BE COMFORTED PLEASE, Mother Nature | Seraphina Pitchiner Being an Asshole, Teen because Emily swears like twice</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 07:15:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,846</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28967790</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starffledust/pseuds/Starffledust</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When she turned back to him, her gaze was stern as stone. “What happened this time that hung up so much of your mind?”</p><p>Sandy glanced away with a grimace.</p><p>“It's not him, is it?” she hissed. The identity of “him” went unspoken, but visions of Nightmare Horses—their golden eyes outlined with red—sprung to mind beside the other terrors of long ago.</p><p>A small smile touched Sandy’s expression, and he shook his head with a silent laugh.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Mother Nature | Emily Jane Pitchiner &amp; Sanderson Mansnoozie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Ramblings of Silent Stars [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2124735</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>What is Advice to Fallen Stars?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A continuation of my other fic: Shared History and Space (because I couldn't leave it alone.)</p><p>I wanted to put more spotlight on Sandy’s experiences here, since I mostly focused on Bunny’s last time, not how Sandy came to the conclusion he did. </p><p>Featuring some underrated book characters this time!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sandy stared at the picture, frowning.</p><p>It was simple, really: a book made of Dreamsand, floating before him innocently with the Guardian’s G on its cover.</p><p>
  <em> Our experiences differ, but the common ground of our pasts becomes the same story. </em>
</p><p>Well, that’s what he had meant. What he had actually “said” or what Bunny had perceived was irrelevant. He seemed to understand well enough.</p><p>Oh, and that look. Just a touch of understanding and relief, then an invisible connection between Bunny and Earth that should be reserved solely for his own planet.</p><p>But it was too late for that now, wasn't it? For both of them.</p><p>If it was not attachment for a planet that Sandy felt, then it was attachment to journeys and people. He had always been flexible, but severing him from the stars only snapped the band which held together his heart. Despite Bunnymund’s attachments, he had still retained that certain level of familiarity with the ground and relics he stored away; Sandy had naught but a large island of sand which had once made up the fastest wishing star.</p><p>Dreams whispered around him, but Sandy paid them no mind as he sat contemplating on the floor of his room, near the large window. The beach did not glow like normal, and the mermaids were silent. His only company was the floating book of Dreamsand.</p><p>“You’re not still brooding, are you?”</p><p>The book fell away, but Sandy himself didn't startle. He turned a patient eye to the intruder. In the silent communication of sand and wishes, he spoke: <em> Reviewing is not brooding, Emily. </em></p><p>Mother Nature dropped down beside him, sitting cross-legged atop the cushioned sand floor. How she had snuck past the seashells without alerting him, Sandy did not know. He didn't quite need to.</p><p>“You know how talkative the fish are,” she said with a voice deep and level like the largest valleys of Earth. “If you but step awkwardly, the tree roots will know and tell me in seconds. Especially after that whole recent charade with the Nightmares.” </p><p><em> The local dolphins are rather nosy, </em> he commented with a nod. Her mention of Nightmares flooded his mind, turning the thoughts of home and companionship into battlefields of Nightmare Men and hosts of Fearlings. <em> I know nothing for roots, though. Plants are your area. </em></p><p>“More than that,” Mother Nature muttered bitterly, looking away. When she turned back to him, her gaze was stern as stone. “What happened this time that hung up so much of your mind?”</p><p>Sandy glanced away with a grimace.</p><p>“It's not <em> him, </em> is it?” she hissed. The identity of “him” went unspoken, but visions of Nightmare Horses—their golden eyes outlined with red—sprung to mind beside the other terrors of long ago.</p><p>A small smile touched Sandy’s expression, and he shook his head with a silent laugh.</p><p>Emily Jane—not Mother Nature now, for that one would never allow such a display of vulnerability—exhaled loudly. “Thank the stars for that.” Her head dipped, dark curls shadowing her face. She looked back up with curious, pursed lips. “What was it then?” Her eyes flicked up to the full moon, then back to him. “One of the other ones?”</p><p><em> The other ones, </em>Sandy repeated in the most obnoxious, undulating sensation that only silence could produce.</p><p>Emily scowled, but an amused smile pulled at her face. “Shut up!” She elbowed him in the side and pulled a lock of her long hair to hide herself. “You know who I mean.”</p><p>Sandy rolled his eyes with a fond shake of his head. For a spirit so old, she still retained enough childlikeness to be unchanged. <em> Yes, Emily, it was one. </em></p><p>“Oh, stop it, you ass. I know your secrets.” She nudged him again, letting the veil of her hair fall away. “ Now, who was it?”</p><p>
  <em> Bunnymund. </em>
</p><p>Emily blinked. “I half expected the new one. Or the younger one.”</p><p>A question mark formed unconsciously above Sandy’s head, despite his insistence to speak with her directly. <em> Those are both Jack, </em>he said.</p><p>“Isn’t that Saint Nikolaas young compared to most of them?”</p><p><em> St. North. First name Nicholas. </em> He raised a brow. <em> If you rely on the Dutch name, you may as well say Santa. </em></p><p>“Animals don't use such complicated names, don't look at me so.” She huffed.</p><p>There was silence for a moment, only broken by the distant sound of breaking waves. Her eyes traveled slowly across the shoreline, no doubt marking its dullness and empty spaces where usually creatures of both present and past would reside.</p><p>A golden fish hopped out of the water as Sandy subconsciously mourned their absence. Then it was gone.</p><p>“So, what did he do that made you so concerned?” Emily finally asked, tilting her head toward him with pure curiosity on her face.</p><p>Sandy took a breath and looked up, where the ceiling gave way to the darkened sky, marked with clusters of stars.</p><p>Emily followed the gaze with narrowed eyes. “What?” She glanced back at him.</p><p><em> Do you miss them? </em>he whispered in the sand.</p><p>Emily’s normally pale countenance darkened burgundy and pink like a frail leaf in autumn. “I—Sandy, you know I—” Her mouth sputtered in silence for a few moments.</p><p>He turned to her slowly, holding her bewildered stare. <em> I miss them, </em> he said, resolute. <em> I miss the speed, the wishes, even the army. I miss the simplicity, the freedom. I miss </em> him, <em> I miss </em> you. <em> And sometimes, when I feel incredibly lost, I wish for a world of contained fear. </em></p><p>Emily’s eyes glistened with liquid sorrow, no doubt remembering it herself. She swallowed. “Am I lost then?” she asked quietly.</p><p>
  <em> I’m here. </em>
</p><p>“But you’re just as lost as I am.”</p><p>He looked away. What could he even say to such a truth? <em> Sometimes I think I have finally found the way, </em> he said instead. <em> Earlier, I told Bunnymund I did not miss the company of Star Pilots.  </em></p><p>“And?” she prompted, sensing he was not done.</p><p><em> I think I lied. </em> Sandy turned back to her, head bowed to the ground as his hands rubbed together in his lap. <em> I told him to find familiarity in the present, despite separate journeys; but here I am, more open with you—with whom I have shared centuries—than with even a Pooka. </em></p><p>“You wouldn’t lie to him.”</p><p>
  <em> I didn’t at the time. </em>
</p><p>“What changed?”</p><p>Sandy deliberated his response for a few moments. This was the most he had “spoken” in decades, but the pain of silence was too much to bear right now. <em> Dreams are inconsistent things, </em> he said slowly. <em> They have no age and no definition. I cannot tell you what did or did not influence me. I think only the stars know. </em></p><p>Emily stared down at him, hurt and rage painted clearly on her windblown face. “So…” she drew the word out, making him look up. “He asked you about <em> then?” </em> Her words were harder than her last few attempts.</p><p>Sandy nodded.</p><p>“And you indulged it?” Her face grew darker pink, nearly red, and her back straightened where she sat.</p><p>
  <em> He’s hurt. </em>
</p><p>“He should know the sensitivity of such a thing!” Her hands flew to the ground, and thorny stems sprung through the sand.</p><p><em> Yes, but he’s HURT. Emily, </em> Sandy pulled at her hands, bringing them closer and clasping them between his own, <em> malice doesn’t make questions like his. It’s only desperation. </em></p><p>“Desperation for what? More pain?” Her hair moved on its own accord, like it was caught in a turbulent wind; Sandy could feel the sand of his island quiver with the mighty waves below. </p><p>Neither pulled away.</p><p><em> Emily, </em> Sandy said again, softer, a small ripple in the sand which sent the thorns back underneath. <em> Emily, we're all hurt. But denying one the comfort of another heals nothing. </em></p><p>For a moment, he believed she would argue, her chest heaving with the stifled rage of every volcano on the planet. But Emily stayed quiet, anger slowly crumbling to resignation.</p><p>She sighed and muttered, mostly to herself, “He’s still an idiot.”</p><p>
  <em> So he is. </em>
</p><p>“They’re all idiots, but that one in particular—and he’s a Pooka from the Golden Age! He should know not to bring up such things.”</p><p>
  <em> I don't see why not. </em>
</p><p>Her arms circled her legs, pulling them closer to her chest. “The past is full of pain and suffering. And you have even more time to account for than me. No wonder his reminder struck you to moping!”</p><p>The phrasing made Sandy shudder, images of flaming hulls and sails tipping in his mind’s eye. Just outside the window, stray Dreamsand moved to form a cascading trail of fire, quickly dissipating with a chiding thought from Sandy. <em> My sorrow is not his doing, </em>he said weakly.</p><p>“Of course it is!” She grasped back at his hands. “You said yourself you were fine before he made you doubt.”</p><p><em> If I doubted at all, then it was my own. </em> Sandy inhaled deeply before continuing: <em> Surely, you can understand his position. He is a lost Pooka with no family or friends. In regards to the Golden Age, I am his closest ally. But he can’t always understand me, and my presence cannot be enough. </em></p><p>Emily settled at this, but the tell-tale ripple of her dress told of hidden resentment. “Why not?” she spat. “It’s not like he’s going to get anything better.”</p><p>Sandy sighed to himself and let both of their hands drop. He had expended all of his explanations already, and now even the comfort of silent words would not yield to his command.</p><p>A long second passed where no one spoke or argued, and the tension surely withered away.</p><p>“I miss it, too,” Emily broke the silence first.</p><p>Though he said nothing, Sandy nodded for her to continue.</p><p>She coughed once. “I mostly miss the excitement. Like when I’d sneak out to play with the Star Fish or when we traveled together answering wishes.” Her frown fell away, her face relaxing with temporary contentment. “I miss my mother, and I miss our victories against Pirates. I miss Typhan.” Her eyes sobered as tears broke from them. “But I can’t miss my father. Not after everything. At least that stupid Pooka has a good family to remember; I only have a half-dead shadow and a blind Constellation to whom I am a bastard Sister of the Heavens.”</p><p>Still, Sandy said nothing, but he placed a hand back on hers.</p><p>She looked down at the gesture and smiled, wetness still running from her eyes. “But,” she began, reaching down with her other hand to cover the two, “I guess I can understand why the Pooka can’t adjust.”</p><p>A question mark appeared above Sandy’s head.</p><p>“Well,” her mouth twisted into a smirk, “I have one thing he doesn’t.” She brought his hand between them, clasping them together again. “I have a Captain Sandy.”</p><p>When the words finally registered, Sandy smiled widely with a silent laugh. <em> And I have an Emily Jane, </em>he said.</p><p>The sentiment went unspoken, but they both thought it the same: <em>“A friend.” </em></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I contemplated using Seraphina, but Emily Jane is just more natural for me to write.</p><p>These two need more fics with each other. I loved their dynamic in the books.</p><p>Also, I know I kinda bashed on Bunny throughout, but that's just Emily's influence. I swear I love him and his struggles are valid. He just affects others in weird ways.</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>